


The Hedgehog's Dilemna

by LittleLinor



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: M/M, Suicidal Themes, dubcon, needleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:31:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4070194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLinor/pseuds/LittleLinor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What if Vector and Yuuma were in what Vector fervently denies is a relationship and Vector tried to freak out Yuuma by introducing him to increasingly extreme kinks and then regretted his life choices when Yuuma got totally into it for his sake," I said.</p><p>And then it happened.</p><p>(Needleplay, mild "Vector still has access to his Barian shape for the sake of kink without plot" AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hedgehog's Dilemna

**Author's Note:**

> My Submission for the [YGO ship olympics](http://ygoshipolympics.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> 1) I'm really sorry about the title 
> 
> 2) Please heed the following warnings: Needles, eye gore, IC triggering, references to suicide, general graphic descriptions, and finally, dubcon of the "it started consensual but then one of the parties failed to safeword when their boundaries got crossed" category.
> 
> Thanks to my teammates for encouragement and beta reading. If I forgot to warn for something you think requires a warning, don't hesitate to message me!

To be fair, he really should have seen it coming.  
That wasn't the plan, that _wasn't how things were supposed to go_ , the plan had been: since Yuuma and his oh so accepting, oh so forgiving heart were so bent on humouring his tastes and fancies at every turn unless it involved harming innocents, he was going to go all out and suggest something so far out of his league that Yuuma would try, have a breakdown, and _finally_ understand why going along with his shit was such a bad idea. That allowing Vector to be himself was actually not something he wanted (so he could finally stop pretending or deluding himself, for fuck’s sake). He'd get to watch him break down for bonus points (it's been a while, okay), and just _maybe_ he'd learn a lesson about humouring assholes in general, which would be good because while Vector doesn't really give a fuck about Yuuma's safety, he _does_ care about the idea of someone _else_ getting to break his wannabe boyfriend.  
(Look, it's _his_ fucking job, he's been at it since he was a Barian. Seniority rights, etc, other people can just fuck off his prey)

Except--except he should've remembered that this kid's moral compass is screwed, that his definition of "good" is "what makes people happy and doesn't hurt anyone other than himself," and that after being disgustingly married to Astral for months and hanging out with the likes of the Arclight brats, Kaito "Brocon Soulreaper Extraordinaire" Tenjou or _fucking Nasch_ , his scale of what's normal isn't exactly 100% human anymore. Beating someone's ass down to show them he loves them doesn't even feel remotely _weird_ to him and he should've remembered this and known that if he told him "hey if you do this gross thing to me it'll make me happy" Yuuma would _just fucking do it_.  
And of course he was so wound up in his own great idea that he didn't realise how screwed he was until he was already tied up in Barian form and Yuuma was looking down at him, all shy but determined smiles and fucking flower background (shoujo style, sparkles and all, it's really disgusting) and holding up his box of needles like a schoolgirl trying to handfeed her crush a boxed lunch.  
And Yuuma's doing it to _make him happy_ and he hasn't been this fucking scared since Don Thousand started absorbing him.

He remembers freaking out this bad about his own fuckups _once_ in his life, and that had ended with him shoving his sword through his own throat.

Maybe if this'd been the first time, he'd be safe. But Yuuma's seen him come down from a fear high before, Yuuma's _held_ him through it before, he's not going to stop just because Vector looks freaked out, not unless Vector asks him to, and like hell he's gonna do that. He'd kill himself again before he'll let himself lose to Yuuma. He didn't beg before and he's not gonna beg now.  
(He's only got himself to blame, as usual)

So here he is, tied to his chair, arms, waist, ankles and all, and Yuuma's straddling his lap like he's just going to hug him or something, except he's still got the needles in hand, and _why_ didn't Vector suggest human shape instead so he'd at least put said needles somewhere less scary?  
Ah, right, because he wanted Yuuma to freak out. Funny thing, that.  
"I'm gonna start somewhere easy, okay?"  
"You think my skin is any softer?" he grits out.  
"I meant easier for you," Yuuma corrects with a smile.  
_Fuck_ does he hate that boy.  
"... just do whatever," he grumbles, because at least that way if things go wrong (they're absolutely going to go wrong), he can blame _Yuuma_ instead.

Yuuma smiles at him and takes a needle before putting the box down on the table next to them.  
"Remember you can safeword, okay?"  
Right, because _that_ 's totally gonna happen. He nods, because hey, technically he does _remember_ , and suddenly regrets being in Barian shape when Yuuma slowly slides the first needle into his shoulder because he has no mouth to bite to stop the resounding "fuck" that comes out.  
You'd think someone would get used to pain after being possessed and warped and beaten and basically eaten, but no. No, the pain coming from Yuuma's _so careful_ needle is sharp as ever and radiating through his entire shoulder and down his arm.  
He can't even pant to work out the pain. How many times do you need to regret everything before it stops being a reality, again?  
At least he's not crying. Yet.

The worst, though? The worst is that in the time it took him to blink away the urge to whimper, Yuuma's cupped the side of his head. _Tenderly_ , even. Stupid careful brat making him almost feel safe when he's _very definitely_ not safe right now.  
And he's sitting there _looking at him_ , watching him, and it's so fucking humiliating.

"I'm going for a second one, okay?"  
The problem with dating a duellist (or not-dating a duellist, whatever) is that no matter how dumb and impulsive they are, they're also used to carrying thin, delicate things in their fingers, so he knows from the start his faint hope of Yuuma dropping the needle is pretty hopeless.  
The second needle goes into the back of his shoulder, closer to the neck, and it doesn't hurt as much but that's actually a bad thing, because he doesn't want to get used to this. If it's not as bad, it might actually start to feel _good_ , and if it starts feeling good it's going to make him _vulnerable_ when it gets worse again, and now it's not even from pain that he's whimpering but from _fear_.  
His wings try to flutter, out of reflex, but they're tied too, safely secured to the back of the chair, carefully folded. He shudders--and then feels his heart skip a beat when Yuuma's hand comes close to the joint of his left one, where it meets his back.  
"Careful... don't move..."  
He can't be doing this, he _can't_ , what the fuck was he _thinking_ , why did he go for this when he tried thinking of disgusting kinks, he should have just stuck to the _other_ kind of needles, gone full medical kink, at least he'd have gotten Yuuma into a nurse outfit or someth--  
"Hnn _nn_ \--" the needle sinks into his joint and he breaks into a panicked keen, battling with himself to stop his wings from twitching in panic because if he does that it'll _move_ and why the hell is Yuuma going along with this, when did this naive kid turn into such a sadist?  
(It's probably at his contact. He'd laugh if he wasn't trying not to cry)

Just ride it, Vector. You've seen worse. The kid's got nothing on Don Thousand.  
Except at least with Don Thousand he _knew_ the guy saw him as a tool, it's not the same because he didn't give a fuck about torturing him, it was just a nice bonus, a little reminder of who and what he was (nobody), and _that_ reminded _Vector_ of who he was (himself) because like hell he was letting some god take credit for the path of destruction he set himself on. But Yuuma does give a fuck. Yuuma _cares_. He cares when he kisses him, he cares when he asks about his day with that infuriating smile, he cares when he-- _fuck_ \--pins through the other side of Vector's joint, locking the wing even further, and hell, he feels like a prize butterfly being pinned down for display.  
The careful, adoring look fits, too.  
And that's when he's really, truly fucked, because he's seen that look before, when he grabbed on Yuuma's hand with both of his and Yuuma just smiled and said "Yes" and he can't say no to that look, not anymore, not after Yuuma _screamed_ when he let go.  
Fuck Don Thousand for leaving him with a functioning heart when he messed with his head. But then, it wouldn't have been as _effective_ without it, would it? Where would his bloodbath be if there was no drive, no joy, no fear, no twisted love to make him want to break things slowly, no pleasure in seeing beautiful things burn themselves out.  
He'd loved the world before and he loved it after. His way of doing it just became a bit different.  
You can't lose what you destroy yourself. It's the first lesson he's learned, spelled out in his parents' blood on his hands, both in reality and in his twisted memories.  
Yuuma pins through the joint of his other wing, and he lets go and screams for a broken second, falling into it like he'd definitely planned not to, pain crashing through his body like fire had through his heart in those short years before he killed himself.

Another needle slides in at an angle from the first one, and it's no longer a new aggression every time, it's a _whole_ , like a colouring book, his body slowly built up by pain, every area filling in methodically. He's screaming--moaning--he doesn't fucking _know_ ; all he knows is that he hates it, hates the way he wants to press his forehead into Yuuma's shoulder and let him go on.  
He doesn't hide in Yuuma's shoulder. He does let him go on.  
And it's a good thing Yuuma'd put his foot down when Vector suggested "Nasch" as a safeword ("What? You can't find a better mood-killer than Nasch" - "Vector, that's mean" - "You're noticing this _now_?"-- he'd finally given up when Yuuma pointed out that it would mean he can't rant about Nasch during the act, which _would_ have been missing out on the true experience), because if he ever got far enough to actually call it, it'd feel like he was _crying out to him for help_ and he'd never have lived with himself.

He's trembling, and it apparently takes Yuuma several tries to catch his attention, because when he finally does it's not just by calling his name, but also cupping his face and making him look up.  
" _Vector_ ," he calls out. "Are you all right?"  
He snorts, his mind slowly coming back through the haze, because does he _look_ all right? But then again he's not supposed to look all right, is he? He's supposed to _communicate_ or whatnot.  
Like Yuuma can say anything about communication. Kid's terrible at it unless you duel him.  
(He is very much not duelling Yuuma. The couple of times they did since the world got fixed, he got stupidly into it, and he hates that almost as much as the way his head reflexively moved into Yuuma's hand)

Yuuma frowns, that frown that almost looks like a _pout_ , and Vector hates him for being cute while doing this.  
"I'm _fine_ ," he snaps, but he can't help his eyes closing when Yuuma's hand brushes back against his hair.  
Pathetic.

He barely notices when Yuuma reaches for more needles, because the pain radiating from his back is still buzzing through his entire body, wings and all, and it almost feels warm even though it hurts like hell. His eyes flutter open right on time to see him move back and reach for his neck. Not on time for him to brace, though.  
The needle goes into the fold between shoulder and neck, and he's shocked by how quiet his own voice is, the strangled whine that leaves him. He shifts a little, and the needle _moves_ inside him and--  
He heaves, voice wheezing high like metal screeching against stone, and Yuuma catches his hair and holds his head steady and back but that's not it, that's not the _fucking problem_ , he's--he's--  
Yuuma sticks another needle into his neck, pressed close and murmuring his name like a mother protecting her child.  
\--human again for those last seconds of awareness after being ran through, pinned like a trophy, spraying like a slaughtered pig--  
Laughing again through tears, shaken with it and all the metal pierced through his body moving along, and Yuuma so close to him, so close he could kill him, and he laughs and cries and lets his head rest back into Yuuma's hand as a third needle moves into his throat.  
"Vector," Yuuma coos, all sweet and careful and _loving_ , and Vector wants him to stop, to be mocking and cruel and hurt him enough that he can finally _scream_.

Yuuma kisses him instead, gently pressing his lips to the emptiness of his barian face, hand still holding and stroking the back of his head.  
He can't move. He can't fucking move; it's like being bound to that fucking throne again, the fear of it, the helplessness of it, the mad instinct to struggle and run as his arms were pulled to the sides and his face smothered, except here it's not the ropes that keep him down (he could've broken through them if he wanted) or even the needles stuck inside his body (it'd hurt like _hell_ to move with them, they'd break in and he might have to cut some parts open to remove them later, but it's doable and he's felt worse before) but the tenderness in Yuuma's face, Yuuma's hands, sickeningly sweet and horribly genuine--he's let the kid hang out with monsters too long. Him, Astral, Nasch, whatever--they've made him one of their own, except under the ruthlessness he's still--  
Yuuma.  
Little ball of sunshine full of poisonous warmth and light that he keeps burning his eyes on.  
Eyes--oh no. Oh hell no.

He shudders as he remembers, and Yuuma's looking straight at him, straight at _them_ \--he wants to squeeze them shut but he can't. It wouldn't help. He doesn't want to hear Yuuma's voice asking him if he's all right again.  
Just go through it. It'll happen. Stop fighting it, let yourself fall.  
The fear starts at the bottom of his gut and twists up through him like a sword through a soft human stomach, splitting open and spilling half-torn entrails, and lodges itself in his throat and his joints and wipes everything from his brain, leaving a blank filled with terror and pain and Yuuma, Yuuma, _Yuuma_ \--

It's the certainty of it that breaks him, knowing that he won't call out for him to stop--something inside him collapses and leaves him limp and abandoned in Yuuma's hands, just waiting for it to happen.  
It's warm and intoxicating like the scent of the battlefield, but it makes him sink instead of burn, and he stays perfectly still as Yuuma pets his hair, eyes wide open and chest trembling and strangled keen when Yuuma finally reaches for another needle, bites his lip, and brings it closer, presses--  
Pain explodes through Vector's head like gunpowder behind a cannonball and the feeling, the _sight_ of the needletip working into his eye is still imprinted into his senses, the way everything had stretched and blurred and the metal frayed a path inside him, parting the softer, pliable flesh of his eye and piercing the whole way through--he feels it all like a nauseating afterimage as he chokes on his own cry, mangled sight still replaying the last image he saw and body entirely focused on the sensation of being skewered (again).

There's a little noise against his senses like Yuuma couldn't hold in a reaction at the sight, and then he's pressing closer to him and another needle is sinking in on the same side and he's feeling it all like a spectator and it almost feels good to know his brain can't even remember how to fight back or run.  
Yuuma gives a nervous laugh, curled up to him, and catches the sides of his face, rubbing his cheeks with his thumbs and slowly pulling his consciousness back from the daze he was in--fuck, he's been crying, hasn't he? That's why Yuuma's doing this--  
"Am--am I doing this right? That's the way you wanted, right--?"  
He almost joins in on the nervous laughter, half because the mad panic of it is still building in his gut and half because really? Does he _look_ like he's in any fit state to give _constructive criticism_ right now?  
Instead, Yuuma's thumbs and careful voice drag a quiet, _pathetic_ moan out of him, but apparently it's enough, because Yuuma's hands tighten on his face and he breathes out a small determined "Okay.... okay."

It's like he's caught in the middle of drowning, head above the water, under the water, above, under, with the way he alternates between suffocatingly awake and cocooned in the haze of pain, like blinking his eyes closed and open except he _can't_ , not literally, because if he lets his eyelids close it'll push on the needles and--he shudders.  
And Yuuma takes that as a cue to kiss him, still holding his face in one hand, like it'll actually _help_ (it does. Fuck him).  
"We can do this, okay?" he whispers against the side of Vector's face.  
If he tries to kattobing me, he thinks as a sob scrapes at his throat, I'm dumping him.

Yuuma draws back a little, letting out a deep breath like he's trying to steel himself. It blows over Vector's face and its drying tears, over his eyes, the one that's pinned and pulsing with pain and the one that's still intact and _exposed_ , and the battering ram inside his chest reminds him that oh, yeah, even in this form he has a heart. And then Yuuma tightens his grip on him and presses a needle into his other eye, and he's sobbing, fucking sobbing, at the _relief_ of it finally happening.  
He's blind. There's still messes of blurred colours reaching him through the pain and tears but his brain blanks them out like his eyes have been burned away with a hot iron. All he knows is the pain hammering through his head and seeping through his neck and shoulder and wings, and Yuuma's touch, still careful, his hands on his face, his chest against his, his weight on his thighs.  
And his voice, babbling at him about this being the last one, hang on, we're nearly there, and his nerves burst with laughter, making his shoulders shake just as Yuuma's done stabbing through the side of his eye, making all the needles in him shift and radiate new, numbing pain inside him, and it's --

too much.

He's still laughing when Yuuma takes the needles out of his eyes and neck and pulls his head into the curve of Yuuma's shoulder, eyes wide and blind, pressed against Yuuma's skin.  
Laughter shaking through his chest, little bursts of it that keep coming as hands massage into the back of his neck, reach down to remove the spikes burning into the joints of his wings. He's still laughing when the tears finally come, squeezing out of closed eyelids as his chest jerks with sobs--laughter--sobs against Yuuma's own.  
He's still crying when Yuuma wraps his arms around his head and back and holds him tight, his cheek pressed against Vector's hair.

**Author's Note:**

> (Director’s cut: And then Vector sleeps on the couch for like a month until he promises to actually USE his safeword when he needs to)


End file.
